The Cause Of Tears
by Jewel3
Summary: Those who'd been present in the X-Jet still look at him funny. X2 fic.


**Please read the Author's Notes, and check out the picture I made for this fic - thank you!  
  
Title: The Cause Of Tears  
Author: Jewel  
Email: jewel_kaufman@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG  
Photo Manip: www dot speedis dot org /images/275728.jpg (Or check out the direct link in my Fanfiction.Net Profile)  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be... Now there's a depressing thought.  
Feedback: Pretty please?  
Summary: "Those who'd been present in the X-Jet still look at him funny."  
Archive Rights: DDFH, WRFA - please put the photo manip up too, if you can. Everyone else, ask and ye shall have.  
Spoiler Warning: Erm, the whole movie? *g*  
Author's Notes: Le sigh. Okay, currently I am plodding along with the Rogue POV companion piece to Terri's 'A Month In Color', as well as a Logan POV companion piece to my own 'Hazard To Herself', along with the fact that I haven't completely given up on the Rogue POV companion piece I set out to do to CJ's 'Angel In A Dirty Gown', plus an as-yet-unnamed X2 Jean POV therapy-fic, and that's along with all my other unfinished fics (such as the prequel to 'Scratching The Surface') to be worked on in the near future. Needless to say, when I actually get time to write, I'm almost always at a loss over which one to work on! *G* This one actually got done in about two hours, probably because I really wanted to write, but needed a break from all the indecision.  
This fic is based on a comment a comic-loving friend of mine made when we were discussing our X2 likes, dislikes, and damn-I-wish-they'd-done-thats. And, well, we sorta got mixed up between "Yuriko" and "Mariko", but... eh. *shrug* Call it a movie re-interpretation, if you will. *g* Hope you like :)  
Dedication: To Patrick, the aforementioned comic-loving friend, for the idea and continuous not-relegated-to-just-fic-writing support, to Heather, Taryn, Terri and CJ for the feedback and beta-work - both actual and in spirit, and to Terri and CJ again for being so incredibly patient with me taking forever to write what I proposed to them (although I'm thinking it's probably cuz they assume I've disappeared at this point *g*), and to everyone who sent me such sweet feedback for 'This Time' - especially Terri, once again, because I just saw that you sent me some and I never did reply to it. Oh! And also, this is also to everyone who had a problem with this scene - hopefuly you'll enjoy my interpretation. :)  
  
  
Those who'd been present in the X-Jet still look at him funny. Not always, not even most of the time, but every once in a while their glances chase sideways and he catches the stray look before it's gone again.  
  
It's equal parts curiosity and pity, and from some there's no small helping of anger or disgust as well. It hurts them that he could mourn for a woman he'd barely known almost as much as the man who'd known her forever. Who'd planned to spend forever with her. It hurts them that his tears for a woman who'd never returned his love rivaled those of the man who'd held her heart. It hurts them that he dared to be so completely destroyed by her loss.  
  
Except he didn't.   
  
He'd cared for Jean, maybe loved her in a way... though not the way people think he had. Perhaps he could've fallen for her if he'd let himself way back when, but she'd been with Scott - and contrary to popular belief, getting repeatedly shot down wasn't a big motivator for him. He'd hit on her at times he knew she wouldn't take him seriously - and wouldn't accept if she did - and she'd been gracious enough to humour his attempts, knowing the intent behind it was merely being channeled from the one who wouldn't turn him away.   
  
He was the Wolverine, but he had honour. He wouldn't break the relationship the woman he wanted was in - though he would have some fun with the one involving one of the few women he'd honestly befriended.   
  
And that's what she was to him... or what she'd been. An honest friend was what he'd found in Jean Grey, and aside from Marie, she was probably the only one of the X-Men he'd really gotten close to.   
  
And now she was gone.   
  
But she wasn't the only one.   
  
He knows they wonder still, how he could break down so completely over a woman he'd barely known. But in truth, while her death had pained him, had filled him with a sorrow he'd never before had reason to feel, those tears hadn't entirely been for the woman he'd hardly known.  
  
Most of them had been for the woman he hadn't known at all.   
  
He's never told anyone what had happened between the time he'd left and rejoined the X-Men in that dam. Marie hadn't known to ask, no one else had bothered, and he certainly wasn't about to volunteer the information. No one knew about his first confrontation with Stryker on the man's home ground. No one knew about the other woman laying at the bottom of that newly formed lake.   
  
No one knew about Yuriko, not even him.   
  
Yuriko Oyama. Stryker had introduced them as he'd exited what was to become their arena, but in another life... In another life, they wouldn't have needed introductions.   
  
In another life. In the life he'd left behind, the life he couldn't remember.   
  
The life he'd gotten a glimpse of as he'd watched hers drain away.  
  
She'd been something to him. Some_one_ to him. A wife? A lover? Of the particulars, he knew he'd never be certain... but he'd loved her once, of that he was sure. Could feel it deep in his adamantium covered bones after he'd pumped the same substance into her, watching in sick resignation as it dripped from her eyes. Watching those eyes as the stiff robotic mask melted into a look of pained, knowing serenity.   
  
She had always been serene, some hidden piece of him could dimly recall. It had called to him, along with the fluidity that so often hid the underlying skittishness of her movements, and the shy way her eyes searched his, holding him captive with a gentle, secretively tender smile.  
  
All of those things, those things he was _sure_ he had loved about her, twisted so horrifically in what she had become. What she had been turned into.  
  
She hadn't had the healing factor, the thought had come to him unbidden. And he knew they must have done that to her too. Pieces of her, of _them_, things he'd never been or be able to remember had pricked at his mind in those moments their eyes had locked, fading again as the light had faded from hers.  
  
He'd wanted to cry out, to break down right there and then at what had once been lost, and lost again before it could be found... but he couldn't. Not then. Not yet. Not when Stryker still breathed and the others were in danger.  
  
He'd run after him, facing him, wanting to know everything he'd lost. Everything about the woman he could even now only dimly recall. But he hadn't been an animal, and Yuriko hadn't been a mercenary, and he didn't want to hear this monster's skewed versions of those few truths he clung to.  
  
He couldn't save Yuriko, couldn't save himself - hadn't known to even _try_ in either case while there was time. But he could save them. The X-Men. There had still been time for that.   
  
There'd been time, yes, but still not enough. He'd failed again and been unable to even watch as yet another woman he cared for paid the price.  
  
He couldn't save the woman he'd once loved; had brutally murdered her instead. He couldn't save the woman he had to admit to loving now; wasn't the one to comfort her after someone else did. He couldn't save the woman he'd called friend; couldn't even offer her the respect of watching her make her sacrifice, though his eyes had drilled holes through the opaque cockpit floor as he'd tried. And as they'd lifted off and the water had swelled beneath, the thought had rung out loud and clear.   
  
Three women. One still present, but no more his than any, and two gone for good. Three women; Love, Hope, Family - all lost to him, all gone. And without those, what was life?  
  
Love lingered, but only impossibly out of reach... Hope threw itself away with the wash of killing waves, and with it went the first simple, accepting friendship he'd ever known... And Family? His own hand destroyed Family before he'd recognized its' face, and the loss of something he'd never be able to define, but that continued to call out to him was more than even he could bear. The women he cared for were put through pain, danger, and despair, and as he'd looked over to the last remaining there, the thought proved too much to comprehend.  
  
"She's gone." He'd whispered, holding Cyclops' rage, but barely hearing the man's cries as a vision of dark hair and soft eyes whispered at the edges of his mind, holding secrets he knew at that moment, he'd never have the answers to. "She's gone." He'd repeated, his proclamation continuing on endlessly until his own cries left him overwhelmed.  
  
They'd avoided him after - even Rogue, at first - and he let them. A peace offering to Scott outside Xavier's door that he thought was successful - less for the words themselves than for the tone of acceptance in which they were delivered - and life around him attempted to return to something vaguely resembling normal.  
  
Those that had borne witness still looked at him funny, but he'd learned to ignore what he knew was behind their eyes. They don't like, or don't understand, why he had cried. Can't fathom why, or can't believe he'd had the nerve, to mourn the way he had, to the degree he had.  
  
They judge him for the cause of his tears, but they don't know a thing.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
